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Lisping Leaves 



W. E. PABOR, Pabor Lake, Avon Park, Fla., 

POET LAUREATE. 



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.nniversary Poem read before th 
National Editorial Association at 
its Twentieth Annual Meeting 
Guthrie, Oklahoma, June 7-9, 1905 



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Designed and Printed by 

RANK G. PABOR, Publishe 
DeLand, Fla. 







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Two Copies- Keceiveu 

MAY 31 1905 

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Tt comes through the open casement 

With the first faiht flush of dawn. 
Like a whisper, soft and swelling 

From out of the lips of morn; 
And no lilting lay sounds sweeter 

Than the one the South Wind weaves. 
As a gift to those who worship 

At th' shrine of the Lisping Leaves. 

The tremulous tones, so tender. 

All tell of the unseen power, 
That rules over rain and sunshine 

And burgeons the woodland bower, 
Where close to the heart of Nature 

Lies balm for the one who grieves, 
Till his soul is sensed with solace 

That comes from the Lisping Leaves. 

And when, through the hours of darkness 

Come the dreams that stab the soul — 
When tides from the Tsle of Sorrow 

Their turbulent billows roll — 
And when there's a throb of triumph 

That forevermore deceives. 
Then cometh the time to listen 

For the lisping of the leaves; 



That lightens the load of anguish 

Too deep for pencil or pen, 
Till the hands of Time turn backward 

And each is a child again, 
And hears, as of old, the story 

(The one that the Mother weaves) 
Of the birds, the bees, the blossoms 

And the lisping of the leaves. 

Be he sage or be he soldier 

With his books or battle blade — 
One will hearken in the cloister 

One will listen in the glade, 
For the flutter of the leaflet 

With its wealth of garnered sheaves 
That comes in the early dawnlight 

With the lisping of the leaves. 

From the days of Eve and Adam 

And the fable of fig leaves, 
To the days of these new women 

That the "co-ed" school achieves, 
We find the feminine fancy 

Falls less and less on the leaves 
That carry the Eros message 

To Eden's where wait fair Eve's. 




But I think of Ruth, the Gleaner 

In the held of barley sheaves 
And the sweet hope that was whispered 

In her ears by lisping leaves; 
For love is the crown of living 

And a woman's heart a throne 
Where she wields a greater scepter 

Than the world has ever known. 






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There's another kind of lisping, 

There are other kind of leaves, 
That are green through all the seasons 

Beneath hall or cottage eaves; 
And, like Nature's leaves and blossoms 

That bloom in the fields and bowers, 
To the world they pulse the progress 

And the heart-throb of the hours. 

There is one with Merlin's magic 

That enfolds the world around; 
That floats on a sheet of paper 

Where the drops of ink abound; 
With each lisping leaf imprisoned 

Within Mergenthaler lines 
That to some give fadeless laurels 

And to others withered vines. 

Ts it but a passing fancy 

Born of woodland lisping leaves 
That from Nature comes suggestions 

For the songs the Singer weaves? 
For the thoughts that come at midnight 

To be heralded abroad 
As a shining leaf of olive 

Or a glittering crimson sword? 



I recall the olden adage 

"There's a soul in every leaf;" 
Unto some, words with no meaning 

But to me, a sweet belief, 
Be they leaves of trees or flowers 

Each a message has to men 
Wiser than ever was written 

By the Brothers of the Pen; — 

As they listen to the lisping 

That come from electric leaves 
While the editorial fingers 

Shape the story into sheaves, 
Unto some a golden harvest, 

Unto some a flame of fire, 
As they see a glad fulfilment 

Or the death of their desire. 




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Who from ocean shore to ocean 

And from inland lake to bay, 
Have gathered each year together 

As we gather here today, 
And, lifting our blazoned banner 

Be we grave or be we gay 
We rally around the leader 

Who founded the N. E. A. 

May his heart be full of comfort 

As we know it is with prfde 
As he grasps the hands that meet him 

As he turns on either side; 
But for him, we were as strangers; 

But for him, as scattered sheaves; 
Who are now a band of brothers 

W T ho listen to lisping leaves. 

There are many gifted brothers 

Who have fallen with the years; 
There are many vanished faces 

That we only see through tears; 
When the lisping leaves sang "30" 

As a sign their task was done 
They went smiling to the new life 

In the land beyond the sun; 



Where the lisping leaves are fadeless 

And the night is as the day 
To celestial pencil pushers 

As they walk the shining way; 
And I sometimes think the twinkle 

Of the stars is but a sign 
From eyes that once looked lovingly 

Into your glad eyes and mine. 



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^ir:- ^tctr ^jrattglsi* Banner 




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O say do you know we have come from afar, 

From our homes on the plains, by the lakes and 

the ocean, 
With our sweet-hearts and wives, we're on board 

of this car. 
And we're going to ride while the engine has 

motion 
We are out for a lark in the daylight or dark 
And while on this trip we just rise to remark 
That the N. E. A. Banner's afloat and we know 
We will keep it a-floating-, wherever we go! 

From the moist Everglades, from the pine woods 
of Maine, 
From the cliffs where the sands are both sil- 
ver and golden, 
From the shores of the gulf, from the fields green 
with grain. 
We pushers of pencils, if young folks or olden. 
With a loud voice declare, that as brothers we 

share 
The belief that life's troubles are lig;hter than air. 
As the X. E. A. Banner we lift up and cry 
'Tis the Pharos whose beams light up Liberty's 
sky. 



And whose was the hand, that first lifted our 

flag, 
In the land where magnolias smile down upon 
roses? 
Who still is our leader, whose steps do not lag, 
Who, ever each year some new pleasure dis- 
closes? 
Who but Herbert whose pen, has again and 

again, 
Been placed at the service of newspaper men, 
As the N. E. A. Banner he lifted in air 
And yelled like a cow-boy, knock it down if you 
dare! 

O then be it ever as brothers we stand, 

Whatever our creed or whatever our station, 
For our hearts and our homes and our w T ell 

beloved land 
And our sweethearts who beat all the rest of 

creation; 
Then prosper we must, for our rates they are 

just, 
And this is our motto: spot cash lest we bust; 
For the N. E. A. Banner's afloat and you bet 
We are jolly good fellows and don't you forget. 



may;ii;i905 

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